Searching for that Happy Ending
by A. Windsor
Summary: The 14 yr old daughter of Marguerite and Roxton is searching for the happy ending she never had. COMPLETE! Edited partially for typos as well. Review! Sequel out soon if enough reviews pour in.
1. Isabella

Isabella stopped momentarily, lifting her eyes to the home of her happy days. She swiped the tears mingling with dirt from her face and came away with bits of dried blood on her hand. Where Gabrielle had struck her still had not healed completely. Isabella looked up again, at the old tree house she barely remembered from her toddler years. Most of her memories of the old tree house were from Challenger's stories, and occasionally her father's. But her father didn't talk about the good days back at the tree house. He never mentioned the place she'd taken her first steps, nearly giving her mother a heart attack as she tripped and came within inches of slipping between the rungs and falling to her death. She learned that story from Veronica. Isabella knew other stories from the tree house, how she was amazed by watching the elevator go up and down. And how Isabella and Layton used their fathers as horses on the floor. But all she had were the stories, and the emotions. Her memories faded with every blow from her stepmother's hand.  
  
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, she thought bitterly, approaching the old electric fence. She deserved the happy ending. She deserved a family, a mother, a father, and a brother. Isabella didn't deserve a half-interested father and an abusive stepmother.  
  
Wiping her hands on her once pretty dress, she grabbed the fence and went to swing herself over. Pain shot through her fingertips and blackness overtook her.  
  
  
  
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?" a male voice asked of her, shaking her quickly.  
  
She opened her eyes, fighting off the pain rushing to her head. A familiar face was before her, etched with concern and wonder.  
  
"Malone? How did you know I'd come here?" she croaked angrily, rising to her feet.  
  
Her "uncle" looked taken aback and younger as well. His eyes narrowed and he looked her over.  
  
Isabella looked very familiar to Edward Malone, but he just couldn't place her unruly light brown curls and gray eyes.  
  
"How do you know my name?" he asked. "And who are you?"  
  
"Uncle Ned, come on now. It's me, Isabella," she laughed, brushing her hands off on her dress and turning her eyes back to him. He said nothing and looked even more confused. "Isabella Roxton," she pressed. "You know, daughter of Lord John Roxton. I grew up with your son! You've given me more piggybacks than I can remember."  
  
"Roxton has a daughter? And since when have I had a son? I'm sorry, miss, you must have taken quite a nasty fall. Come upstairs," Ned said, flustered by her reference to his friend and his supposed son.  
  
"How can you not remember Layton?" she cried in disbelief. "Really, Malone, this has gone way to far. What would your wife say about teasing poor little me?"  
  
Before Malone could answer that, someone called down from up above.  
  
"Malone? What's going on down there?"  
  
Isabella looked up almost fearfully, trying to think why that voice was so familiar. She gasped and stumbled back, catching her foot on a root and tumbling down. The last thing she remembered before she hit the ground was the woman she saw standing up above, raven curls and gray eyes just like Isabella's. Her mother. 


	2. Marguerite

Author's Note: WOW! You guys are awesome. Thanks for the reviews. Here's more for you sweet people.  
  
Lord Roxton stood in the doorway of Summerlee's old room, where Malone had laid the girl he'd found outside the tree house. She was a pretty little thing, but in bad shape, with bruises and dried blood all over. Something about the serene innocence of her face reminded him of something he had seen before. He just didn't know where.  
  
"Do you know her?" Malone asked, coming up beside him.  
  
"No," Roxton shook his head. "What is her name?"  
  
"Isabella," Malone sighed.  
  
"She looks so familiar," Roxton said, half to himself.  
  
Malone nodded. "She claims to be your daughter. And I found this in her bag."  
  
He handed Roxton a faded black and white picture, showing a little girl, a little boy, and what seemed to be a mother and father. As his eyes focused on the mother and father he nearly dropped the picture.  
  
"I think she looks like her mother, don't you?" Malone asked in a quiet tone.  
  
Roxton blinked. The father was.him! Beyond doubt it was him. But what surprised him the most was the mother was none other than their own Marguerite. The girl looked very much like a younger version of the girl sprawled on the bed, and the boy was a miniature copy of John Roxton himself. He chuckled lightly. "I do believe so."  
  
"Where do you think she came from?" Malone asked.  
  
"Perhaps one of Challenger's shifting planes of reality," Roxton shrugged.  
  
Malone opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, Isabella stirred. Her gray eyes blinked open, verifying her maternal lineage, and she yawned. She was surprised to see her father, but not afraid. Isabella knew her father loved her, and would never harm a hair on her head. He didn't even get angry with her very often, just sad. Sad when she ran off. Sad when she cried herself to sleep at night. She knew he knew.  
  
"Hello, Father," she managed, trying to sit up.  
  
"Isabella, he's not your father," Ned tried to tell her.  
  
"Not yet, anyway," Roxton added softly, looking at the picture again. "Isabella, do you know what year it is?"  
  
Fighting off a wave of confusion and dizziness, she answered, "1939."  
  
"Whoa. What year were you born?" Roxton asked.  
  
"Father, now that is just silly. 1925, of course. How can you forget that?!" she let herself fall back again, thoroughly confused. She murmured a few choice words about aging fathers and closed her eyes against a headache. Roxton laughed lightly.  
  
"I don't know how, and I don't know why, but it is 1924," he said gently.  
  
"What?!" Isabella cried, snapping her eyes open and staring in his direction. "Please tell me this is a bad joke to repay me for running away from your wedding."  
  
"My wedding?" Roxton questioned.  
  
"Oh shit," she mumbled under her breath. "Shit, shit, shit!"  
  
Roxton raised an eyebrow at the girl's sailor's mouth.  
  
"Are you trying to tell me I've gone back in time? I haven't been born yet? You've never seen me before in your life?"  
  
Both men shook their heads and she sighed. Then she thought for a moment and a smile broke out on her face. "Does that mean my mother is here?"  
  
"Marguerite?" Malone asked.  
  
Isabella nodded her head furiously, despite the pain. "Is she?"  
  
"Well, yes. Right in the other room. Would you like to." But she was already out of the bed and bolting out the door. She came to a skidding halt in the living room area, staring at her mother, or the woman who would become her mother.  
  
"Well, well. Looks like our little visitor is up," the familiar voice cooed and Isabella felt tears coming to her eyes. Gods, she'd missed that voice.  
  
"Marguerite, this is Isabella," Roxton said gently.  
  
The raven-haired beauty nodded slightly in Isabella's direction. "Nice to meet you. Where have you wandered from?"  
  
"Actually, Isabella is from the future. Fifteen years in the future," Malone responded easily. "She will really be born next year."  
  
The heiress turned and stared at Malone like he was a raving lunatic. "You have got to be kidding? One of Challenger's shifting planes of reality?"  
  
"Basically," Roxton answered, coming behind the barely held together Isabella and lying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Isabella swiped at the tears forming in her eyes.  
  
"Does she speak?" Marguerite asked, returning to her tea as she sat at the kitchen table.  
  
"Quite a lot, at least a few minutes ago," Malone put in.  
  
"So, are you saying she's scared of me?" the woman asked.  
  
"Actually, Marguerite." Roxton started.  
  
"Marguerite Krux," Malone cut him off, "I would like to introduce Isabella Roxton, your daughter."  
  
Isabella whimpered slightly, the tears falling down her face. A tea cup hit the floor of the tree house and shattered. 


	3. Roxton

Author's Note: I guess it is still pretty short, but I had to end it where I did, otherwise this chapter would be WAY too long. You have a choice between shorter chapters more frequently or longer chapters less frequently. Let me know what you want, please. Forgive me if I get character's personalities a little off, I try my best but it is just a little hard to imagine how Marguerite would react. *shrugs* Oh! And I forgot a disclaimer! Oops! I own nothing, except the Roxton children, the Malone children(who you'll meet later, or well, hear about), Gabrielle and Nathaniel, who also come into play next chapter, as well as the plot and most things in the time period Isabella is coming from.  
  
Isabella couldn't stand it any longer and ran back into the room she'd just come from, sobbing and trying to catch her breath. Malone followed, but Roxton crouched beside the stunned Marguerite, the well-worn picture still clasped in his hand. He tried his best to stifle a chuckle before he gently took her hand and closed her fingers around the photo.  
  
"This is Isabella's family," he whispered in her ear. "Her father, her brother, and her mother."  
  
Marguerite's eyes closed for a moment, not daring to look at the picture.  
  
"Marguerite," he chided, taking one finger to her chin and softly turning her head towards the photograph. "She's beautiful. She looks like her mother."  
  
The dark haired woman finally opened her eyes and let them drift to each of the persons in the picture. As her gaze rested on the boy, she stole a glance at Lord Roxton and immediately noticed the similarity. Then she looked to the father figure, none other than John himself, a little older, a little happier. The girl was Isabella, no doubt, much younger and much happier, a roguish smile like Roxton's adorning her small face. Drifting upwards, to the mother figure, the little boy curled in her lap, Marguerite knew -there was no doubting- it was herself.  
  
She felt herself almost smile. Roxton chuckled beside her. She stared at him, old shields coming up as she snapped at him.  
  
"You find this so amusing, don't you? I would have you know there MUST be a mistake. I would never bear you two children!" She nearly sprang from her seat, but John caught her wrist and pulled her back down.  
  
"Pictures don't lie, Marguerite."  
  
"No, but teenage girls do," she replied icily.  
  
"Are you trying to imply Isabella is lying? She clearly knew Malone, and she called me Father as soon as she woke up. Obviously she recognized you. It put her all out of sorts," Roxton cried. He thought on his last words for a minute. "She didn't seem surprised at all to see me. but seeing you made her very upset."  
  
He leapt from the ground, placing a quick kiss on Marguerite's cheek before she could protest and darted into the room where his daughter now was, leaving the heiress to study the picture.  
  
Finding Malone clumsily trying to comfort the emotional fourteen-year- old, Roxton almost laughed. "I'll take it from here, Neddie-boy. After all, she is my daughter. Or will be."  
  
The blond younger man nodded with a small smile and slid away from Isabella, leaving the pair in peace. Roxton took his place on the small bed next to the girl. Laying an awkward hand on her back, he stroked her mane of brown curls. Her sobs were quiet now, every now and then a particularly large one rocking her petite form. When she calmed down a little, he finally worked up the nerve to speak.  
  
"Isabella, may I ask you a question?" he spoke in a near whisper.  
  
Drying her eyes and nose on her raggedy sleeves, she looked at him. In that moment, he was struck with her remarkable resemblance to Marguerite; same bone structure and eyes just to name a few similarities.  
  
"Of course. Only if I can ask one first," she smiled through her tears.  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"What do I call you? You aren't my father, yet, but you will be. I....I just don't know what to call you," she laughed.  
  
"Well, um. That is a tough one," he chuckled. "Roxton will be fine, but I know that is your own last name. No one really calls me John, but you of course are free to. Hmmm. And well, Father doesn't sound too horrible at the moment." He passed a roguish grin in her direction, and to his surprise and delight, she bounced it back to him like a mirror.  
  
She took a deep breath and let it out, saying, "John it is. But Father may slip in a few times, so forgive me."  
  
"Of course," he grinned, ruffling her curly hair as she playfully batted his hand away. "Now my question."  
  
"Okay. Go ahead."  
  
"When you awoke and saw me, you didn't look too surprised or too distraught."  
  
"Well I saw you this morning, or well, this morning in fifteen years. You know what I mean."  
  
Roxton offered a sympathetic smile as she threw her hands up in the air in confusion. "But then why were you so emotional about seeing Marguerite?"  
  
It was her turn to sympathetically smile. "I haven't seen my mother in five years. Neither have you."  
  
"What?" Roxton cried, his eyes widening. He gulped, "Is she.dead?"  
  
She gave a weak shrug. "I wouldn't know. As far as I know, she is alive. But she left you and I five years ago, when Jack."  
  
"Jack? The boy in the picture? Your brother?" Roxton asked, trying to let it all sink in as his heart fell into his stomach.  
  
She nodded, tears piercing her gray eyes again.  
  
"What happened to Jack?"  
  
"He....." she gulped. "He died. Right before Mother left us." Her face wrinkled with concealed tears. "He was only seven."  
  
Pain stabbed Lord John Roxton's heart. His son, or future son, dead, at seven. He wrapped his arm around Isabella and she buried her face in his shoulder, crying heavier now.  
  
He looked towards the door and saw his Marguerite leaning in the doorway, tears in her eyes as well. In that moment, he was torn, because he couldn't comfort them both. Perhaps that is how the Roxton of the future would feel when his own son was taken from this life. Torn between the woman he loved and the daughter, recipient of the unconditional love only a father can give.  
  
Fortunately for 1924 Roxton, the daughter was now asleep. He carefully picked her up and laid her underneath the blankets, promising himself he'd make sure she was cleaned up in the morning. Brushing a final curl away from her closed eyes, he turned to the door. Marguerite was still there, not having moved since he first noticed her.  
  
As he approached her, conflicting emotions over took him. Betrayal and anger raced through him, as he knew she would one day leave him. Shared grief, or whatever this utter sadness inside of him was, waged battle against the anger and betrayal, along with the love he felt for her.  
  
Coming up next to her and leaning on the opposite door frame, he made no move to speak and neither did she.  
  
Finally, he broke the silence. "Perhaps it would be best for us not to speak of this until she can give us the full story in the morning. Challenger, Veronica, and Finn should be here as well by then. As a group, as a family, maybe we can figure this out."  
  
She only nodded slightly, quickly swiping a stray tear from her eye. After a while longer she said softly, "I believe you now. She's your daughter. She has your smile."  
  
"Our daughter," he gently corrected and then grinned. "She has your eyes, your beauty, and our shared knack of getting into sticky situations."  
  
A sound came from his beloved that was very close to a short laugh.  
  
His eyes twinkled at her.  
  
"Well, she has your hair color, at least," Marguerite managed, brushing a small hand through his hair quickly.  
  
"But your curls," Roxton added. "I never had curly hair."  
  
"Probably a good thing," she grinned a little teasingly.  
  
He chuckled and the sound made Isabella stir uncomfortably under her covers.  
  
"Maybe we should retire, now, so we don't wake her. Poor thing's very tired," Roxton suggested.  
  
She nodded, walking off towards her own room, much to his disappointment. "Goodnight."  
  
"Sweet dreams," he smiled, watching her walk to her room and then taking a final peek as Isabella before letting the curtain to her room drop behind him as he made his way to his room.  
  
As he settled under the blankets, Isabella's words replayed in his ears. "I haven't seen my mother in five years." "...she left you and I..." "Jack..."  
  
Roxton fell asleep worried that night. 


	4. Discoveries

A/N: Here's some to hold you until she tells the whole story. I know she starts to sound Mary-Sueish in this chapter, but she has weaknesses soon to be revealed. Enjoy!  
  
Roxton was the first one up the next morning. He made his coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Malone soon joined him, youth clinging to him with the last remembrances of sleep.  
  
"Good morning old boy."  
  
"Was yesterday a dream, or is your daughter really here?" Malone asked sleepily, pouring himself some coffee and slumping into the seat across the table.  
  
Roxton laughed lightly. "She's really here, I think. Let me go check."  
  
He pushed himself up from the table and walked quietly over to the room Isabella fell asleep in the previous night. Silently, Roxton lifted the curtain.  
  
In the early morning light of the plateau she looked so entirely fragile and vulnerable, he was unsure if she actually was real. The wound under her eye was beginning to fester, which made Roxton ponder how she received such a nasty blow. Bruises also appeared along her arms. Intrigued, he padded into the room, careful not to wake her. One arm was lazily thrown out from under the covers. This one had a pattern of bruises that looked sickly like the grip of a hand. A contusion rose along the right side of her jaw, a place nearly impossible to injure simply by falling. With horrid realization, John took a step back, almost nauseous. There was no question this girl had been beaten. The sickening welt beneath her left eye was too calculated to be anything else, as well as the hand print on her forearm. He closed his eyes and turned away, leaving the girl.  
  
He sat back down at the table.  
  
"Still there?" Malone asked of him.  
  
Roxton nodded. "I do hope Challenger will return soon. She needs some medical attention."  
  
"She did look really beat up. Any idea what happen?" the inquisitive reporter queried.  
  
Roxton gulped. "She doesn't just look really beat up. I think she was really beat up."  
  
"By who?"  
  
"I have no clue. Believe me, if I did I'd go forward in time and kill them for harming her."  
  
"What's for breakfast?" came a yawn from behind Roxton. He turned around to see Isabella, barefoot and still in her torn dress. Her curls were an unruly mess and her gray eyes twinkled with rested gleam.  
  
"Good morning," Lord Roxton greeted, rising and pulling a chair out for her next to him. Isabella made her way over and took a seat.  
  
"Breakfast?" she questioned, noticing neither man had any food in front of him.  
  
"We usually wait until everyone is up before we eat. Besides, it is Marguerite's turn to make it this morning," Malone answered.  
  
"She's already up, in her room, reading. I went to check on her after I got up. Make sure it wasn't all a dream. And I can make breakfast if you tell me where everything is." She paused for a moment. "Wait! Did you say you are letting her make breakfast?"  
  
Malone chuckled.  
  
"She'll burn it!" Isabella cried. "I'm definitely making breakfast. What do you have?"  
  
Malone set about showing Isabella where everything was and the two of them started preparing breakfast for the four occupants of the tree house. After watching them got boring, Roxton walked over to the balcony and kept his eye out for the others to return.  
  
When Isabella was finished, she made Malone and Roxton set the table while she went to retrieve Marguerite from her room.  
  
She knocked softly on the outer wall of the room.  
  
"Come in!"  
  
Taking a deep breath, Isabella pushed back the curtain and ducked under it. She offered a strong smile to the woman who sat in a chair in the corner.  
  
"Good morning. I made breakfast, if you're hungry."  
  
Marguerite turned from looking down at her book to look at the young girl nervously standing in her door. For a moment, her eyes softened and she almost smiled. Her internal defenses naturally kicked in though, and her face showed no emotion.  
  
"Did those men really make the guest make breakfast?" she asked, laying her book down.  
  
"Well.they told me you were supposed to make it. I thought I would give you a break, and well, I've had your cooking before." the girl answered with a sheepish grin.  
  
A soft chuckle broke through the woman's emotionless façade.  
  
"I don't get any better at that?"  
  
Isabella answered, "No, ma'am." Her eyes fell back to her feet.  
  
"Isabella, are you afraid of me?"  
  
"No...it's just, I haven't seen you in a long time...."  
  
Marguerite nodded sadly and Isabella stopped. She forced a smile and said, "Well, what am I supposed to call you?"  
  
She thought for a moment, looking at the tattered girl that would be her daughter. "I.I honestly don't know. What do you call Roxton?"  
  
"He said to call him John, so I'm trying to. Should I just call you Marguerite?"  
  
"I guess it will have to do," Marguerite sighed. "You said breakfast was ready?"  
  
Isabella smiled and nodded, a new lightness in her pace.  
  
Challenger, Finn, and Veronica returned shortly after breakfast. After hearing the explanation for Isabella's appearance, Veronica and Finn volunteered to take the girl down to the lake to wash up while Challenger stayed to speak with Roxton.  
  
Newly clean and feeling better than she had in a very long time, Isabella led the way back to the tree house, her curls hanging limp around her shoulders as she almost skipped ahead of Veronica and Finn.  
  
"So, you say I have a son and a daughter in your time?" Veronica asked as she watched the girl nearly floating in front of her.  
  
"Yep. With Malone. Jane Anne and Arthur Layton. Or just Jane and Layton. Layton's been my best friend since forever. He's a year younger than I am, thirteen. Jane's nine. She tags along with me and Layton all the time," Isabella answered, talking a mile a minute. She stopped for a moment, her eyes catching on a very straight branch coming from a tree near the path. She floated over to it and looked to Veronica.  
  
"Vee, can I borrow your knife?"  
  
"Sure, Isabella," Veronica answered guardedly, looking at the girl quizzically as handed the knife over.  
  
"Thanks." Isabella began to cut the branch, quickly detaching it from the trunk and handing the knife handle back to the jungle woman. She swung the branch around in her hand, wrist twisting as light filled her eyes. Isabella laughed and took a swipe at Finn. "Fencing," she said with bright giggles, "A pure art form, relying on every single muscle of the body to be working in perfect unison." She leapt onto a low tree branch then off with a somersault in the air. "At least that's what my teacher tells me. This should make a good practice sword. My other one is stuck in 1939."  
  
Both Finn and Veronica were giving her looks of mixed astonishment and awe.  
  
"Nice," Finn commented as Isabella kept walking towards the tree house.  
  
"Very nice, Isabella. How long have you been studying fencing?" Veronica asked.  
  
"Please, just Bella. Umm," her eyes half shut as she did mental calculations, "Eight years, about. Whip Layton every time."  
  
All three laughed.  
  
"C'mon, I'll race you two back to the tree house!" Bella cried taking off in a run down the path.  
  
  
  
Marguerite watched as Finn, Veronica, and Isabella raced into the clearing. Veronica finished first, then Finn, as Isabella twisted in the air and landed, still in third place, next to the others. She was so much like Finn and Veronica, and so much like Roxton, it was hard to find any of herself in the sweet girl. Then again, she had been absent for the past five years of Isabella's life. Marguerite turned away from the balcony as the trio headed into the elevator and up the stair. 


	5. Dreams

Laughter filled the air as the elevator rose to the top level, unloading its three female occupants in a tussle of giggles.  
  
"Roxton, you should see this girl run! She almost beat me and Vee," Finn said as Roxton looked up from his spot at the kitchen table where he cleaned his guns.  
  
He smiled a little, motioning them to get some water and sit down. Looking Isabella over, he noted how much healthier she looked now that the blood and grime was washed away from her. Her curls held a new bounce and her smile brightened the whole room.  
  
"I trust you ladies had a good time," Roxton stated as the three seated themselves at the table.  
  
"Of course," Isabella laughed.  
  
"Good, good," Roxton grinned lightly, though more pressing concerns filled his mind.  
  
"Lunch is almost ready," Challenger announced, returning from his lab and glancing at the boiling stew.  
  
"Great! I'm starving!" Isabella cried, patting her stomach with a soft glint in her eye.  
  
Challenger chuckled. "Look at that, her father's appetite as well."  
  
Isabella grinned sheepishly and told him in her cultured English accent like her father's: "I'm a growing girl, Professor."  
  
The red head nodded and shouted to Malone, "Lunch is served, Malone!"  
  
"Where's Marguerite?" Veronica asked as she rose and helped Challenger put the food on the table.  
  
"She said she had a headache and wasn't hungry," Malone informed them, entering the room, "I think she's taking a nap."  
  
Isabella nodded understandingly, remembering this kind of behavior from when she was younger, and merely said, "Well I guess that's just more food for us then."  
  
"Now that's the way to think with your stomach," Roxton laughed, clapping her on the back in an effort to help her brighten the mood.  
  
"Looks great, Challenger," Finn commented.  
  
"Yeah, let's eat!" Isabella agreed.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Jack! Jackie, slow down!" a young girl's voice rushed across a breezy meadow bristling with wildflowers. Her accent resembled that of a young, well-born Brit, though it was a bit watered down. "Jackie, you know Dads will kill us if he finds us this far from the camp! John Richard Roxton, Jr.! Come back now!"  
  
In her dream, Marguerite hears all of this, then turns around to see the little girl from the picture run past her, chasing down a boy. A blond boy who looked younger than the girl but older than the boy was at Isabella's heels. A toddler was mounted on his back in a makeshift backpack, obviously his little sister.  
  
Finally catching up with Jack, Isabella literally tackled him to the ground. The older boy came to a stop a few feet away from where the other two are wrestling on the ground. The smaller boy was pinned under his sister's greater size advantage, though was still valiantly struggling.  
  
"Layton, get her off of me!" his muffled cry raised from beneath the mass of skirts that was Isabella.  
  
"No can do, old chap," the other boy answered, sounding drastically different than his cohorts with his Americanized voice. "I don't mess with Roxton women, your father taught me that much. You deserve it anyhow."  
  
"Stop struggling, Jack, and I'll let you up," Isabella huffed angrily.  
  
"Fine," Jack sighed, ceasing his fight as his sister rolled off of him.  
  
"Now you're coming back with us before we get in trouble and I get all the blame. Aunt Veronica is not going to like us having Jane with us this far from camp," Isabella said angrily, taking her brother roughly by his shirtsleeve and hoisting him off the ground. She brushed the grass off herself first and then off of his shorts and knee socks. "Look at you, Jack, you're a mess."  
  
"Not my fault my bloody sister tackled me," Jack mumbled, breaking away from her and brushing the rest of him off, trying to keep his dignity. He reached up and pulled some pieces of grass out of his close cut brown hair.  
  
"John Richard Roxton, Jr. watch your language! I should tell Mum and let her wash your mouth out with soap," the older Roxton admonished, turning heel and heading back across the field, Layton -laughing- close at hand.  
  
Suddenly looking penitent, he ran to catch up with her, sliding a stubby arm around her shoulders. "But you wouldn't, dear sister, because I'm your favorite brother."  
  
Isabella looked down at him, trying to still be angry, but he inherited his father's charm and she let out an exasperated cry as her eyes softened. "Oh! You're my only brother and you better be happy for that 'cause otherwise you wouldn't be my favorite."  
  
"Oh yes I would!" he objected. "You know it's true. Isn't it Layton?"  
  
"She does love you very much, whether she wants to admit it or not," Layton offered, cowering a little as Isabella shot him an icy gray glare.  
  
"That's enough from you, Layton Malone."  
  
The toddler on his back, Jane, giggled and pulled on his blond curls. "Beya right! Beya right!"  
  
"See, even your sister agrees with me," she humphed, tousling Jane's similar curls.  
  
Layton rolled his eyes and Marguerite's dream fades as a familiar voice called for the four children.  
  
"Coming Mum!" Isabella and Jack cried and took off.  
  
  
  
Marguerite woke up with a start, tears wetting her face from the adorable little scene that had unfolded before her. She brushed them off of her face quickly and climbed out of her bed, pulling her boots on.  
  
In the living room, everyone was sprawled in on the chairs and the couches, lazy from their mid-day meal.  
  
"Isabella, we can't wait anymore. We have to know what happened," Marguerite demanded, pulling a chair in from the kitchen. "Please."  
  
The room looked taken aback and Isabella swallowed hard, blinking a bit.  
  
"Umm, sure. Where do I start? The beginning, right?" She took a deep breath. "I was born November 10, 1925, here at the tree house."  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Layton followed thirteen months later. We were raised together nearly as brother and sister. I was bossing him around as soon as I could talk. A year later my brother Jack was born, and just a couple months later, we moved to New London. Jane, three years later, was the first and only of us born in the city. And everything was just.perfect, for years. We'd take trips out to some of the more remote parts of the plateau, sometimes all of us, sometimes just me, Jack, Mother, and Father. I was just a normal kid; school, fencing lessons, family trips, and just normal stuff. Except maybe for the fact my parents were nobility. And my "family" wasn't a family at all. And we were famous in New London.  
  
Layton, Jack, and I became an inseparable trio, with Jane tagging along as soon as she could walk.  
  
The summer before I turned nine, my parents hired Gabrielle Woods to act as a sort of nanny to us. Gabrielle seemed nice enough at first, and Jack even liked having her around. I for myself merely tolerated her, slipping off to spend time with Father, go jewel hunting with Mother, or going off to the Malone house or Finn's, even subjugating myself to one of Challenger's science lessons . The feeling was obviously mutual.  
  
Then one day Jack, Mother, and I were out for a walk. We encountered a group of dying natives, with tiny sores all over their bodies. Mother immediately recognized it and whisked us away. That night Jack contracted the disease and began to show symptoms. Six days later, John Richard Roxton, Jr. died of small pox, quarantined from everyone else to prevent the spread of the disease.  
  
****  
  
She took a deep breath, focusing on a spot on the wall because she couldn't look at any of them. "Only Mother and I were allowed to be with him. Father had to wait outside. Mother and I never contracted the disease due to."  
  
"A natural immunity," Marguerite finished in a pained, harsh whisper loud enough for everyone to here.  
  
"Yes," Isabella answered, pulling her hair back from her face. "Father took it hard. But Mother took it worst of all."  
  
  
  
***  
  
It was hard enough for me, my best friend, my soul mate, my little brother, was taken from me at seven years old. He died and I didn't, though we both encountered the same thing! I thought it wasn't fair at all.  
  
To make matters worse, when I woke up two mornings later, my mother was gone. She'd disappeared without a trace. My father was a wreck, I was too confused to get out of bed for days, and Gabrielle saw her chance to swoop right in.  
  
A/N: I know, I know, evil evil evil place to end, but I have to, because there's another half of the story to tell and you've waited long enough. Thanks to all my loverly reviewers. Now review again and tell me what u think. 


	6. Gabrielle

The stillness in the room crept into Isabella's heart as she focused on remembering the details to those blurry days of her life. "For the first few days after Jackie's death and my mother's sudden absence, I'd convinced myself it was all a dream. Stubbornly, since being stubborn is a strong trait in my family, I proclaimed to those around me that I would wake up momentarily and Mum and Jackie would be right there to meet me." She stopped and snorted at her stupidity. "What an imagination, yes? I've always had a bit of an overactive one. Always blurring the line between reality and fantasy. It's why Malone says I'm a good writer. It also lowers my credibility among adults. That's why no one really believed me when I first told them about Gabrielle...."  
  
Gabrielle was in her early twenties when we first met. No one was quite sure of her past life before coming to New London, and no one was sure where she went on her day off, Sunday. She had Sunday off because, once we moved to New London, Father decided we had to show up for church every week, sit in a front pew and behave like normal people. Jack and I joined the choir. Jack, for his age, had a very sweet treble voice.  
  
Just weeks after my life was turned upside down, Gabrielle announced she was pregnant. And she told everyone the father was my father. I knew then, and even know now, that cannot be true. I remember the way my father looked at Mum, and I see, even now, the way he looks at her, and he is far too in love for what Gabrielle says he did. It is impossible. There is little these days I trust and believe in, but one of those is that my dad is more in love with my mum than words can express. John Roxton fathering another woman's child was impossible.  
  
But rumors grew, and as did Gabrielle's stomach. Soon Nathaniel Woods was born. And now, instead of Gabrielle being my nanny, I became Nathan's.  
  
And, as the anniversary of my brother's death approached, my father began to seek comfort in Gabrielle. I hated every minute of it.  
  
One night, after I watching Nathan all day and then putting him to bed, he awoke screaming in the middle of the night. I tried my best to quiet him but nothing worked. Gabrielle stalked in and screamed at me before sending me for a bottle. I returned with it, but in a daze from sleepiness and with poor eyesight in the dark, I tripped and the bottle fell and shattered.  
  
That is the first time she beat me.  
  
******* Her words hung in the air for minutes as she struggled to regain her composure and wipe the tears from her face.  
  
"I think that's enough for this evening, Bella," Challenger announced with no room for argument in his tone. Outside the sun was setting and the moon was peeking its head over the trees. "We've all had a very emotional day. It would be best if you got some sleep. Unless of course you want some dinner."  
  
"No, sir, I'm not very hungry." She didn't look it either. She looked sick to her stomach.  
  
"Since Finn is back, she can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll sleep on the couch," Roxton announced.  
  
She smiled her thanks. "You don't have to, John. I can sleep on the couch."  
  
"No, Isabella. I insist."  
  
"Thank you," she said quietly. "I'll just go get my bag."  
  
Isabella walked barefoot to Finn's room, removed her bag and sleepily crashed into Roxton's room.  
  
Wordlessly, everyone else either retreated to their own rooms or fixed himself or herself some dinner.  
  
"Look at this," Finn announced, coming out of her room with a small metal object and a photograph in hand. "This must have fell out of her bag."  
  
Those awake, Veronica, Roxton, and Malone came over to the table where she'd laid it and studied the objects. The picture was more recent, maybe a year ago, and showed Isabella, a blond boy and a Zanga boy a couple years older. On the back was scrawled, "Isabella, 13, Layton, 12, Cobi, 15."  
  
"There's your boy," Roxton said, pointing to the blond boy in the middle before drifting his gaze to the metal object. His hand fell to his pinky to find his signet ring still in place, but there it sat before him along with Marguerite's locket on a chain.  
  
"That's my ring."  
  
"And that's Marguerite's locket," Veronica said, momentarily taking her eyes off of her future son.  
  
"If there was any doubt." Roxton started.  
  
"You know as well as I that there wasn't any doubt, Roxton, just look at her!" Malone cried. "Every part of her that isn't you is Marguerite. There is no denying it."  
  
"I wonder what Jack was like?" Roxton mused. "Is going to be like, rather. I bet those two get into lots of trouble."  
  
"You'll have your hands full," Malone laughed.  
  
"What about you? Seems Isabella and Layton get along famously. I see lots of trouble there too," Roxton replied.  
  
"Cobi? That's what Assai calls her son, Jacobi," Veronica said.  
  
"Yeah," Malone agreed.  
  
******  
  
When Marguerite fell asleep that night, she had many things on her mind. Internally she was grieving for the son who wasn't even born yet. He wasn't even a thought that was on anyone's mind before that day. But she didn't expect such a vivid and painful dream as she had that night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Isabella! Isabella! What happened to Nathaniel's blanket?" an unfamiliar voice called through an echoing hall.  
  
A girl of twelve stepped out of a room with a white blanket firmly in her curled fist and an annoyed look on her now familiar face. She stormed down the hall and the scene panned to follow her. She tossed the blanket into another open door, avoiding a nicely dressed servant who made his way out of the room with dirty dishes.  
  
"I'm going to Layton's," she cried harshly and turned heel.  
  
"No you aren't! You have some questions to answer," the voice growled in return.  
  
A woman with strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun stepped from the room as she tried to run off. The woman grabbed Isabella's wrist and spun her back around. A slight pop could be heard echoing through the hall and Isabella grimaced.  
  
"Where did the bruise on Nathaniel's forehead come from?"  
  
In a tight voice, the girl, obviously holding back tears, answered, "I don't know! I wasn't watching him when he got it."  
  
"Exactly! You have to pay attention to him," the woman returned and cuffed her soundly on the left side of her head.  
  
"Henry had him, Gabrielle! Layton and I were fencing!" she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks now.  
  
"But I told you to watch him!" She raised her hand again to slap her when a shout entered the hall.  
  
"Don't touch her!" An elevenish boy bolted into the room and pushed the woman out of the way. Gabrielle grabbed the boy and pushed him into the door, where he hit his head. Then she clutched Isabella by her injured wrist and her throat.  
  
The boy looked up at her with hatred, blond curls sloppy and blue eyes screaming lightning bolts. He picked himself up and buffed out his chest bravely.  
  
"I'll tell her father what you do! And my parents will know too! You'll be run out of town," he shouted.  
  
"Layton, don't bother," Isabella said weakly.  
  
"If you tell anyone what happened here, your friend will not be able to come out and play for many weeks. I doubt she'll even be able to walk. Now get out and keep this to yourself." Letting go of Isabella's neck, she pulled Layton up and pushed him towards the door. "Get out!"  
  
His eyes locked with Isabella's and the girl whimpered and nodded.  
  
He ran out.  
  
"As for you." Gabrielle said, pushing her away roughly. "You get out, too. Go clean up and make up and excuse for the wrist. Go on. Watch your attitude and mind you don't tell your father."  
  
Isabella ran off just as Gabrielle added, "Not that he'd believe you."  
  
  
  
Bella woke up and just couldn't get back to sleep. She made her way into the main room of the tree house. John was fast asleep in the couch, snoring rather loudly. She giggled and approached the table. A photograph her and Layton and Cobi was there, as long as her necklace with her father's ring and her mother's locket. She quickly picked up the necklace and closed her fingers around it. She couldn't believe she'd let it fall out of her bag. If it had been anywhere else and she'd lost it.. She'd kill herself!  
  
Isabella missed Layton and Cobi. They were her best friends and the only ones who knew about Gabrielle. Cobi, the heir to the chief of the Zanga village near the tree house, often visited New London and Layton and Isabella often made long treks to the Zanga home. Isabella sighed and resolved she better go back to her bed, so the rest wouldn't worry. She grabbed the picture and went into John's room to at least try to sleep.  
  
Author's note: Okay, that's all for now. Umm, review and tell me what you think. I took a little liberty and gave Assai and Jarl a one-year-old son, Jacobi. Hope you enjoyed! 


	7. Morning

~~~"Ooooh! If my mother knew.." The last of her words were bitten back in fear and Gabrielle's eyes flashed angrily and then sickly elatedly.  
  
"Your mother wouldn't care! Your mother left you because she couldn't deal with your insolence and poor behavior. Honestly, it is a miracle I was kind enough to take you in. No one else could control you. Your mother couldn't love you. No one does."~~~~~~  
  
Isabella woke up as a loud sob escaped her throat.  
  
To her surprise, Marguerite was the first to rush into her room.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked, hurriedly.  
  
Bella just stared at her for a moment as she continued to sob. "Do you love me?" she finally croaked.  
  
Marguerite was so surprised she took a step back. "What?"  
  
"Never mind," she mumbled. "Just a bad dream."  
  
"Oh, tell me about bad dreams!" Marguerite sighed, taking a cautious seat at the end of the bed.  
  
Wiping her face, Bella asked, "What were yours about?"  
  
"Honestly? You." Marguerite admitted.  
  
"Me?" she squeaked with surprise.  
  
"Well, they weren't all bad dreams. Last night's was horrible, though."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"It was like I was in your time, watching..watching what I guess were your memories." Marguerite looked up cautiously and found Isabella watching her intently.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Well, the first one you were rather young in, which was yesterday afternoon. You, Jack, Layton, and Jane in a field. You tackled Jack because he wouldn't listen to you. You said something about being too far from camp. He said something about 'bloody sisters' and you threatened to have his mouth rinsed out." Marguerite sighed and glanced at Bella to see a bittersweet grin on her face.  
  
"I remember that. I was 7, Layton 6, Jack 5, and Jane 2. We did get in some trouble. What about the bad one?"  
  
"I saw Gabrielle....and I saw her beat you." Marguerite felt herself begin to cry, both in anger and pain. "And Layton tried to intervene. She threatened that if he told anyone she would beat you to the point you couldn't walk for weeks. She hit you because Nathaniel got a bruise when someone else was watching him."  
  
Isabella herself remained stoic when she brought up the memory. "I remember."  
  
Silence hung over the two for a moment.  
  
"So it is true what the Zanga say," Bella finally whispered.  
  
"What do they say?"  
  
"They say that you are empathetic to people's memories and feelings. A vessel of sorts. It is a gift. Or a curse."  
  
"Most things are. Do you spend a lot of time with the Zanga?"  
  
"I spend at least a couple days there every time I run away," she replied easily.  
  
"You run away often then?" Marguerite queried.  
  
"At least once a year. On the anniversaries of very bad days. I always visit the Zanga villiage because one of my best friends is there. Cobi, the chief's grandson," she explained.  
  
"I know. I've seen him. He was born last year."  
  
Isabella smiled and her eyes took on a different gleam. "Oh, he was, wasn't he?"  
  
Marguerite raised an eyebrow. "What's that tone of voice?"  
  
She looked taken aback for a moment and then regained her composure. She grinned, very Roxton-esque. "Nothing at all. What makes you ask?"  
  
"Because I've used that tone," the woman laughed.  
  
Isabella rolled her eyes and giggled. "I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about."  
  
Suddenly, "Good morning, ladies, nice to see you up. Sleep well?" Roxton was in the doorway, grinning a lot like Isabella was.  
  
"I slept fair, John. Come on in," she beckoned and patted the place on the white sheets next to her. He came in and took a seat. Now Bella was in between her two future parents.  
  
"What were you two gabbing about?"  
  
"Isabella's crush on Jacobi, the Zanga prince."  
  
"What?! We were not. There is no such thing! Honestly!" She turned bright red and crossed her arms. Marguerite and Roxton laughed.  
  
"Come now, Marguerite, it's not right to tease Bella so."  
  
"Oh, and it's all right to tease me?"  
  
"Of course, you're not our teenage daughter."  
  
Isabella snorted and giggled. "Stop it you two. You fight like children! Good thing I'm separating you two..or else.. Oh wait! I have to get here somehow!" She grinned wickedly.  
  
"Isabella!" Roxton and Marguerite cried in unified disbelief.  
  
She was laughing hysterically now and collapsed back onto the bed. Struggling to control herself she barely managed, "I'm sorry. It's true!"  
  
Roxton and Marguerite chuckled and locked gazes. Isabella noticed the adoring glances they were giving each other and sat up gently.  
  
"I'm," she said between laughs, "Going, to go, get some, breakfast."  
  
She excused herself and the room was quiet, silent even.  
  
"I'm sorry," they finally said at the same time.  
  
"This is silly!" Marguerite cried. "We're apologizing for things we've yet to do."  
  
"But we are going to do them," Roxton said painfully. "Our son dies and you leave me."  
  
"You marry a woman that beats our daughter."  
  
They let the simplicities of their own horrid crimes to the other settle into the air between them.  
  
"Kind of makes all these years of chasing pointless. We know it won't work out," she said after a few minutes.  
  
"It was worth it," he grinned. "It IS worth it. Have you looked at her? Talked to her? She's amazing. Very worth it. I love you. I apologize in advance for every ounce of pain I cause you, but I love you and I need you."  
  
Marguerite's voice dropped below a whisper. "I love you, too. But we're both setting ourselves up for grief and anger."  
  
He leaned forward and kissed her passionately. "So?"  
  
She stared at him for a moment with tears in her eyes. She stuttered over a few responses, but could find none.  
  
"Marry me.."  
  
  
  
Author's note: Dumdumdum! Who said it?! What will the other person say???? AHHHHH I'm so evil!!! I can't believe my evilness. Oh my!!! No tomatoes, please!!!!! 


	8. Do what?

Marguerite instantly blushed red after saying this and pulled away from his astonished face.  
  
"Do what?" he finally stuttered out.  
  
Marguerite closed her eyes and cringed. "Marry me."  
  
Roxton blinked a couple times. "Well, I..are you sure you want that?"  
  
"Yes," Marguerite managed, a frightened smile on her face.  
  
"Then. of course! Marguerite Krux, I love you. I would be overjoyed to be your husband!" He pulled her closer to him and kissed her passionately.  
  
They heard a giggle at the door and turned just in time to see Isabella's curls dart out of the door. Both laughed.  
  
"Come on, let's go tell Challenger and the rest," Roxton grinned taking Marguerite's hand.  
  
Everyone was in the main room, talking about different things amongst themselves.  
  
"Isabella, what can you tell us about New London?" Challenger badgered the young girl.  
  
Isabella, still red in the face from giggling, merely replied, "I think Marguerite and John have something they want to share with us."  
  
All of the explorers turned their attention to their comrades.  
  
"Well, do you?" Finn asked.  
  
"Umm, yes. Marguerite and I are getting married," Roxton announced.  
  
"What?!" Veronica and Malone exclaimed in unison.  
  
Isabella laughed happily as the explorers converged on poor Marguerite and Roxton congratulating and asking thousands of questions.  
  
"I knew this was coming," Challenger beamed, clapping Roxton on the back.  
  
"Congrats, guys," Finn laughed.  
  
Isabella smiled and retreated to the balcony. This brought back a very recent memory. Except that time the excitement coming from Aunt Vee and the rest was fake.  
  
~~~~~ "John proposed last night!" Gabrielle giggled, showing off the large ring on her left finger to everyone. Roxton just stood nonchalantly at her side as she clung to his arm and clucked about all the wedding arrangements.  
  
Isabella backed away and stared at her father as his friends enveloped him. Layton was soon at her side but she pushed him away.  
  
"How could you?" she screamed at him. "How could you do that to Mother? Why? Damn you both! Go to hell!"  
  
She turned tail, sobbing, and ran away.  
  
"Isabella! Wait!" Layton called, running after her with a scornful look at his one time hero, who stood there so stoically as his own daughter cursed him.  
  
~~~~~  
  
That night Isabella sat on a chair pulled out onto the balcony, wrapped in her own light blanket. Its deep blue was faded in areas and she pulled it close to her. The blanket was decorated in Zanga patterns.  
  
Roxton approached her. She looked so very young and helpless huddled there with her legs pulled up to the chest. Her eyes were staring into the nothingness of the jungle canopy.  
  
"You know, we have thicker blankets if you need one," he said gently, coming up next to her.  
  
"I'm okay. I'm attached to this one. It's a present from a friend," Bella smiled at him.  
  
"Oh, a Zanga friend? Cobi perhaps?" he teased her.  
  
She blushed and buried herself further into the blanket.  
  
"Maybe," she said softly.  
  
He laughed.  
  
"So, Mr. Husband-to-be, how about a duel tomorrow? You, me, fencing. It'll be fun. You'll lose, but it'll be fun."  
  
Roxton chuckled. "Just because you're so arrogant, sure. You fence then, I take it?"  
  
"Since I was really little, yeah. My teacher says I'm pretty good. I'm not like most Roxtons. I can't shoot a gun."  
  
Surprise was evident on Roxton's handsome face. His own daughter not being able to shoot.  
  
She laughed at his look.  
  
"Oh, John, don't look so astonished," she giggled. "You tried to teach me and I was all right. I just don't like to use them, so I'm not very good at all. They're too loud and cumbersome. The saber is more of a civilized weapon."  
  
"We don't take hunting trips, do we?" he asked.  
  
"No, not very often. Not since..well, five years ago. And before that you did all the shooting, with Jackie shooting his tiny pellet gun at birds sometimes. He was good. Like you."  
  
"Your brother.what was he like?"  
  
"He looked just like you. But he had more of mother's personality. A quick, witty tongue, an almost magical way with languages, and a pessimistic side to him. He always saw the worst in every situation and I always saw the best. After long fights, we'd compromise to the best solution. If one of us didn't beat the other up."  
  
Roxton chuckled. "Rowdy, were you?"  
  
"Oh very! Mother hated it! But you said it was good for us. Made us tougher!" She gave a sighing laugh.  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes.  
  
"Where's the fiancée?" she finally asked.  
  
"Sleeping," Roxton smiled broadly just thinking about Marguerite as his future wife.  
  
"In HER room?" Isabella's gray eyes brightly danced casting him a sideward glance.  
  
"Of course!" John cried, giving her a light shove.  
  
She whimpered very slightly in pain and withdrew towards the side of the chair instinctively.  
  
"Oh Bella! I'm so sorry. Did I hit a bruise?"  
  
She bit her lip then regained her composure.  
  
"Yeah, no problem, just a pain reaction, you know?"  
  
"Do you think we can change our future, Isabella?" Roxton asked her, his dark eyes staring intently into her gray ones.  
  
"I don't know, John. I honestly don't. I..I really hope so. But..what if by some morbid twist of fate you forget when I go back? If I go back! We have no way to get me back. Challenger said he'd try to figure out a way. I think it has something to do with electricity. There might've been a stray current in the old fence when I hopped it. The professor told me it might, but I was in too much pain and grief to pay attention."  
  
"I swear to you on your uncle's and grandfather's graves I will not forget," he said lowly, his voice heavy.  
  
"If you can help it," whispered the teenager.  
  
  
  
Marguerite's dream that night was a blur of passing time. It was set in the Zanga village near the tree house and the key players seemed to be Isabella and Jack Roxton.  
  
Children's giggles whispered through the huts surrounding the main circle. The women spoke quietly around their cooking pots and a dull rumble of drums settled onto the groups of men talking.  
  
The noise seemed to die down as four children, their cheek healthily ruddy from running, stepped from the shadow. The oldest was a Zanga boy on the precipice of adolescence. His dark hair fell to his olive shoulders and from his handsome face powerful, nearly black eyes peered at the central group. He was dressed merely in a pair of crème knickers like the other boys around him. Beside him on the right was a pretty young girl, about four inches shorter than the Zanga boy, with her light brown curls pulled back in a messy ponytail. She wore a simple summer dress. On his right was a boy of similar height to the girl, his blond curls cut close to his head. They were Isabella and Layton, Marguerite recognized. At Isabella's left hand Jack stood proudly, his arms crossed across his chest with a black eye starting to form on his left eye.  
  
An elder from the central group, which included the explorers and a toddler, Jane, barked something at the boy.  
  
The boy, whom the elder had called Jacobi, replied something in his native tongue. Jack laughed harshly and added something in Zanga, pointing angrily at Jacobi.  
  
"Bella-sa, who started it?" a female voice lifted from the group. It was an older Assai who looked at the girl.  
  
"Jack. Cobi won at a foot race and Jack accused him of cheating."  
  
"I didn't cheat," Cobi said coolly.  
  
"Did too!"  
  
"I did not! I am a Zanga prince; I have no need to cheat. I've been trained to run fast."  
  
Jack stuck his tongue out, making the adults laugh and the scene faded into another.  
  
Time had regressed it seemed as the children ran races through a cleared section of the main clearing. Bella looked about five and it was only she, Layton, and Cobi Marguerite could recognize.  
  
Bella and Cobi faced off at a stick drawn line in the sand. Layton stood perpendicular to it and the Zanga children lined a narrow raceway.  
  
"On your marks, set, go!" Layton shouted in a youthful cry.  
  
Cobi and Isabella took off, Isabella's skirts trailinf behind her. Cobi reached the end a second ahead of her, but she threw herself into a slide, pulling up her skirts, and tripped his legs out from under him. Both tumbled to the ground as the children laughed.  
  
Once again the image blurred and was replaced by a warm night. Drums rumbled and fires burned. The young men and women of the tribe danced as the night's celebration burned on. Marguerite could recognize no one, but then the scene shifted slightly to the side where the shadows flickered with the fires.  
  
"Did she hurt you, Bella-sa?" a soft baritone whispered in the dark. Standing against a pole, Isabella leaned heavily. She appeared the same age as she was now. A much older Cobi, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, stood next to her, his hand against her back, helping to support her.  
  
She didn't answer, her clear gray eyes cloudy with tears.  
  
"Isabella..did she hurt you?" he pressed, raising his other hand to hold her face.  
  
"Not any more than usual," she whimpered. The tears finally slipped down her cheeks. His thumb came up to caress her hot tears away.  
  
"Stay here. I swear to the gods I won't let her hurt you anymore," he swore.  
  
"No, Cobi, too many people depend on me in New London," she sobbed.  
  
"Then remember you'll always have a safe place here. My people will never let her through the front gates."  
  
She laughed lightly through her tears. "You're sweet, Cobi. Thank you."  
  
He smiled at her, then lifted her chin to kiss her softly.  
  
The dream faded out as Marguerite awoke to Roxton and Isabella's laughter. Again, Marguerite awoke content, but she wasn't sure how happy she was that some teenage Zanga prince was kissing her daughter.  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Lol. This was more of just some pure fluff and to answer everyone's question. Was it predictable that Marguerite asked? I was really going over and over who should ask it, and both seemed predictable so I went with my gut. Anyway, this also is preparing you for the sequel that takes place in Isabella's own time. evil laughter Of course I'm not done with her yet! 


	9. No Goodbyes

"C'mon, old man, keep up," Bella laughed, taking a swipe at his left hip before spinning off of his block.  
  
They had cleared the main living room area of furniture, and with Finn, Malone, and Veronica watching them from the sides. Marguerite was still asleep and Challenger was toiling in his lab trying to get Isabella back to her time. Now Isabella was giving John a run for his money.  
  
"Cocky, aren't you?" Roxton breathed, raising his branch to block her gutsy thrust.  
  
"Just slightly," Isabella parried, meeting his "foil" and ducking beneath the crossed branches. As she twisted her wrist, and the foil along with it, away from the lock, she swept it towards his side. The hit struck home and John jumped back. Laughing, Isabella flipped away. "You okay, John?"  
  
"Fine," Roxton grumbled, shaking it off and rolling his shoulders back.  
  
"That's good," Isabella grinned.  
  
He brought his branch down hard on her block, the force of the blow sending her stumbling back. She knocked a chair pushed against the side over, falling to the floor.  
  
"Are you okay?" Roxton asked, hurrying over to her.  
  
"Wonderful," she laughed, picking herself up and brushing off.  
  
"Maybe you two should take it outside," Veronica laughed. "I want my furniture in one piece, please."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Bella chirped, winking and saluting. "C'mon, John."  
  
"How about later, Isabella?" Roxton answered, breathing a little heavily.  
  
Isabella laughed. "Okay."  
  
"Vee and I'll make breakfast," Finn offered as Malone, Roxton, and Isabella began to put the furniture back in place.  
  
"Good. I'm so hungry!"  
  
"You're always hungry, Isabella," Roxton teased, ruffling her hair. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"I'm a bottomless pit, John. Jack and I used to see who could eat the most food at dinner. Even now when Father and I sit down for dinner, he tells me I eat more than a lady should." She stopped for a moment, lost in memories and thought. "Father and I always eat alone. I guess that has changed now."  
  
It had been at least a day since she had thought about the fact she now had a stepmother. Isabella shuddered at the thought of having to return to that world. Layton would be frantic by now, but she wondered if her father would even notice she was gone . No, he would, she told herself. After the novelty of marriage wore off, he would realize when she didn't show up to dinner. Or when Layton showed up demanding where she was. Then they would start looking for her at all the usual places. Cobi would be alerted and he would be frenzied in search of her. The world that Bella would return to, if she did, and if things were the same, would be a mess.  
  
Isabella had to laugh at that. All of this because Layton would worry that the worst had happened to her. She'd then have to scold him that, honestly, he should lighten up a little.  
  
She missed him, he that knew everything about her. He was a great listener, the perfect person to rant to because he just patiently heard you out before offering reasonable advice if it were called for.  
  
Sighing, she turned back to the present and went to the table to grab some breakfast.  
  
"Good morning, everyone," Marguerite announced moments later as she emerged from her room.  
  
"Morning, Marguerite," Isabella mumbled through a mouth full of food.  
  
Veronica ever so lightly smacked her upside the head.  
  
"Sowwy," was her muffled apology right before she swallowed.  
  
  
  
"Just a few more minutes, Marguerite," John told the whining heiress at his left arm. Isabella walked at his right heel, carrying the picnic basket. Finn and Veronica brought up the rear with Malone and Challenger taking point.  
  
"It's nice out today," Isabella commented merrily from beside him. He grinned at her.  
  
"Yes. It is one of the nicest days in a while. Not a cloud in the sky. There's a nice breeze from the northeast."  
  
Isabella's face fell. "It was like this the day Jack, Mum, and I decided to take that walk. That was why we decided to go out. But it rained the night he passed on, as if the plateau itself mourned the loss of such a boy." Silence remained because no one knew what to say. Sensing this, Bella attempted to brighten the mood. "No use dwelling on the unhappy. Jack wouldn't like it. Is that the forked tree at which we turn, John?"  
  
"Yes, I..." Roxton halted and put out a hand to quiet the rest. Isabella's senses went on alert as well, attuned to everything around her.  
  
"Behind us, to the left," she whispered, her voice quieter than the breeze.  
  
The lord nodded and couldn't help the proud smile rising to his face. His smile was quickly smothered as a muffled cry rose behind them. They turned to see Finn battling a man in swashbuckler's garb. Three more appeared from the left.  
  
Veronica took on one of them and Roxton swung his rifle out to shoot another. As Marguerite fumbled for her pistol and Ned and George rushed to the help, Isabella saw something moving to the right of the group. Creeping closer to the brush and ignoring the shots John was firing, she jumped back as another man leapt from the shadow. Looking him over once and swallowing any fear, she reached for one of the two swords he carried before he could. Surprise flashed over his bearded face and then a sinister snarl curled his lips. He drew his sword.  
  
"So the lassie wants a fight? Well, you wanna fight like a man, you'll die like one," he told her.  
  
Isabella rolled her shoulders back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"  
  
She took a quick strike at his left shoulder, forcing him to block her or have his arm removed. By the time his block was up, though, she'd brought the sword back across his body, slashing his stained shirt.  
  
He looked very taken aback and stumbled for a minute. She used the opportunity to shove the blade through his chest, dropping the sword and turning away from the gruesome affair. As she turned, she watched the admiration in John's eyes as he'd been watching her.  
  
"John, watch out!" she called, alerting him to the man sneaking up behind him. He took him out with the butt of his rifle. Isabella turned to survey the rest of the area.  
  
"Isabella!" was Marguerite's scream, but it was too late. Pain rushed over her and everything became white. When her vision cleared, she looked down and saw the sickening blood stained sword tip protruding from her stomach. Her entire body throbbed and she fell to her knees. Someone laid her on her side, Marguerite most likely. Roxton's screams of anger sounded as if they were miles away, as did the subsequent gunshots.  
  
She groaned as the sword was removed and she was rolled onto her back.  
  
"Bloody hell," Bella murmured, pressing her hands against her free flowing wound. Her hands were soaked in blood and she knew she was far-gone.  
  
"Change it. Please. Change it..." Isabella mumbled, reaching out for anyone around her.  
  
  
  
Roxton finished off the men in a round of angry shots and then rushed to Isabella.  
  
"Hold on, Bella. Hold on," he commanded, reaching for her bloody hand. He looked up and saw Marguerite's tear-stained and bloodstained face across from him. She shook her head. Isabella's body shimmered from his grasp and nothing was left.  
  
"Dammit!"  
  
There was a hand on his shoulder, but he wrestled free of it, running away from his friends to the edge of the path. He felt the tears slip down his face and tried vainly to stop them.  
  
This time it was Marguerite's hand on his shoulder and he lifted his arm, inviting her close to him. She slipped in and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. The tears mingled as they fell to the ground.  
  
Author's Note: One more chapter to go, where many things get explained and the stage is set for the sequel...kinda.... This is really sad, I just realized rereading it. The entire fic has been. I hadn't intended to end it this way, but it just felt right and so here it is.. don't get too worried yet.. review, review, review!!!!!!!!!!! 


	10. Visitation

Author's Note: Ned is Malone's nickname. His full given name is Edward T. Malone, to reviewers who commented that Malone's name wasn't Edward. They reveal that at some point during the first season, I think. Everyone just calls him Ned, like Jack's real name is John, but everyone calls him Jack. Just thought I'd clarify that a bit.  
  
Also, this is a short ending chapter and probably pretty anti- climactic. Just remember, with this story, the end is only the beginning of another tale to weave.  
There was a mournful stillness over the jungle tree house. Little moved; little sounded; little did anything more than breathe.  
  
Most of the explorers were asleep or trying to be. Veronica was busying herself with odd jobs around the home to take her mind off of the day's events. Poor little Bella. Poor Marguerite and John! Veronica closed her eyes to the thoughts.  
  
When she reopened them, she thought for sure she was dreaming. There was her mother, right there!  
  
Abigail Layton, dressed in a simple white robe, smiled at her very surprised daughter. "I'm sorry you won't remember this, Veronica."  
  
"What? What are you talking about?"  
  
"I have to alter all of your memories. You can't remember Isabella Roxton's visit."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"The future will change. Jack Roxton won't die. Marguerite won't leave. Everything will be different."  
  
"Is that such a bad thing?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The answer hung in the air and almost disgusted the younger woman.  
  
"All fates are connected to each other, so if this changes, the repercussions will change the balance of the Plateau."  
  
"But Isabella doesn't deserve everything she's been through!" Veronica objected.  
  
"She would not be given these burdens to carry if she couldn't handle them."  
  
Not happy with the answer, but accepting it, Veronica asked, "Will John and Marguerite remember that they are going to get married? Other wise I don't think either will have the guts to ask again."  
  
Abigail laughed at her daughter. "I will let them remember their engagement. I guess it is the least I can do."  
  
She then walked, as if she were floating, to Marguerite's room. The raven-haired woman slept with a faint smile on her face.  
  
"Is she dreaming of Isabella?" Veronica queried in a near silent whisper.  
  
"Yes. But she won't remember it."  
  
"Let her at least finish the dream, please. This one last time."  
  
Abigail nodded slowly. "Would you like to see it as well?"  
  
"Can I? I don't want to intrude."  
  
"Nonsense. Just take my hand."  
  
Veronica slipped her hand into her mother's and closed her eyes.  
  
~~~~~~~~~ An infant tottered on wobbly legs, grasping tightly onto a chair leg. Her brown curls were a swirling mass that bounced with every cautious movement. Her bluish-gray eyes looked determined and her chubby lips were hard set with concentration. She let go of the chair and took a step forward. She stopped, giggling with pleasure in herself, and tried again. On about her third step, she slipped and her forward momentum kept her going. Dangerously close to the railing of the tree house now, she rolled forward and threatened to slip through the bars. Just then her savior swept her up and tossed her in the air.  
  
"Ho, little lady, I can see you are going to be trouble already!" Challenger laughed, returning her to her stricken mother.  
  
"George, thank you!" Marguerite cried, hugging Isabella close.  
  
Roxton just grinned, eventually prying his daughter from Marguerite's grasp and tickling her belly. "Just imagine when she has a little Malone to influence."  
  
Veronica walked into the scene then, very pregnant and glowing. "John Roxton, your daughter is going to get my child into so much trouble. I can see it already."  
  
"She gets it from her daddy," John laughed, launching Isabella in the air, then catching her and swinging her around.  
  
Bella squealed in delight.  
  
"John, be careful. Bella just ate," Marguerite warned, keeping an eye on her husband's antics with their daughter.  
  
"My girl's got an iron stomach. She'll be fine," he assured her, spinning her around once again.  
  
"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you. And I'm sure as hell not cleaning it up." ~~~~~~~~~  
  
Veronica laughed as the dream faded away from her mind's eye.  
  
"They're adorable," she commented, releasing her mother's hand.  
  
"Yes, they have many happy years."  
  
"Too bad they must end so tragically."  
  
"There is hope for them yet, perhaps," Abigail said cryptically. "The Lady Roxton is very strong. She may yet be able to raise her family from its ashes."  
  
Veronica, of course, assumed her mother meant Marguerite, and she didn't remember anything after that moment to know that she was wrong. She didn't know that fifteen years in the future, a teenaged girl would hold that title: The Lady Isabella Elizabeth Roxton, a girl ripped from childhood as she'd been ripped from her own time, and transplanted in a world filled with adults just waiting to betray her.  
  
Author's note: THE END!!!!!!!!!!!! Hehehehe. Well, if you want the sequel, review review review review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


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